


Necessary Horrors

by loammy_jean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Potter Direction, uh i think that's it rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loammy_jean/pseuds/loammy_jean
Summary: When Harry invites Louis to come home to the Styles-Twist household and meet his family for the first time, Louis is ecstatic. Except that Louis is a pureblood, Harry is a Muggleborn, and Louis is certain he'll make a fool of himself. Any good boyfriend would want his boyfriend's family to like them, but with the Second Wizarding War looming just out of sight, the stakes are higher than Louis ever could have expected.





	1. A Chocolate Frog for Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelarry10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelarry10/gifts).



> Thank you so much for letting me pinch hit for this exchange! I've had so much fun writing this story, and as a matter of fact it properly got away from me. I intended it to be longer, but I couldn't quite help myself. This is not a dark fic, though it does have similar elements of political unrest as you'd see anywhere in the canon Harry Potter universe. But mostly, this is a pretty fluffy fic, and I had so much fun taking both the HP universe and the 1D boys and making them my own.
> 
> JK Rowling owns everything except for the on-screen characters, and even those belong to themselves, not me.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to understand Muggles,” Louis says primly, swinging his legs across the compartment and into Niall’s lap. Niall shrugs, Harry laughs, and Louis slumps in the seat, eyes to the sky, contemplating how many ways he can possibly fail at impressing the Styles family in two weeks. 

He’s not going to be there for all of winter hols, but he might as well be. After all, he’s just going home for his birthday and to “let Harry’s family enjoy” some Muggle holiday he still doesn’t understand, per his mum’s suggestion. According to Harry, it’s a time for family, but Harry didn’t say he couldn’t stay. Then again, would Harry ever? He doesn’t want to be inconsiderate, but he just doesn’t quite understand their culture or even what Chris-Mass is anyway, so it’s hard to say if his mum is overreacting or if he just isn’t treating it with the proper etiquette himself. Mum has always taken holidays and celebrations seriously, so it could be either of the two.

Dating Harry has never been difficult. If anything, learning so much about Muggles has been fun, but he has to admit it can be exhausting at times. Louis has never met Harry’s family, not even been introduced to them at Kings Cross, so Louis is more than a little nervous to be staying in their home for nearly two weeks. He’s barely grasped the concept of the telly. What if that’s all they do for entertainment - sit around the telly? What will they do every day?

And that’s not even counting the more pressing matter. Will they like him? What if he embarrasses himself without knowing? Usually Harry’s the one who’s out of his depth, a Muggleborn and the only wizard in his family. Watching Harry stumble over wizarding etiquette and learning new concepts and the way their world works - well, it’s usually endearing, but he’s never considered what it’s like to be on the other end of it. From what he gathers, Muggles have a lot of “technology” that will have to be explained to him, and he doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself in front of Harry’s family right off the bat, when they don’t even know him well enough to laugh with him rather than laugh at him.

Or will they be intimidated? Will they feel like Louis is unsafe? Why did he ever agree to this? The thoughts are flitting through his head faster than he can even comprehend them before it’s on to the next, and Louis doesn’t realize he’s totally zoned out until Harry squeezes his hand firmly and says, “Lou.”

Harry calls it “anxiety” when Louis’ brain moves too fast to make sense like that. It’s a term from some Muggle mind healer somewhere, and Louis doesn’t understand it really, but he does know that whatever anxiety is, he could absolutely live without it and would prefer to, without a doubt.

“In her Owl, Mum said we should have plenty of snow and the pond should be frozen when we get there. Maybe we can go ice skating.” 

Louis passes up the “what is ice skating” in favor of, “How does she know what the weather will be like? Didn’t she write last week?”

Niall, a half-blood, barks out a laugh and says, “Mate, have ya never heard of the forecast?”

“The what?” Louis pulls his robes tighter around his body and wiggles slightly, uncomfortable.

“The weather forecast,” Harry elaborates, “is something they play on the telly where they use science to predict--”

There’s more, but Louis hears telly and decides that today is not the day to learn about the “forecast.” As the trolley passes their compartment, Louis scrambles to his feet to get to the door. Fist full of galleons, knuts, and sickles from his pocket, he says, “Chocolate frogs?”

The poor old woman pushing the trolley jumps at his rapt entry into the corridor before pulling to an abrupt stop. Hand over her chest, she asks how many, and Harry and Niall howl with laughter inside the compartment while Louis gets one for each of them and then asks about the Every Flavour Beans. When he turns back around into the compartment, Harry’s pulling his eight-track player out of his carry-on bag, along with the string thing with the big uncomfortable squishy things on the ends that you put over your ears, and honestly, is he trying to give him a stroke? Grasping the concept of a telephone was one thing, but every time Harry plugs his “headphones” into the hole in his eight-track player and music comes out - or even worse, he “rewinds” the song - Louis has so many questions. Where does the music come from? How does it travel through the string? It took Louis a long time to understand that it didn’t work like the chocolate frogs, where whoever shows up in the card has to actually come and be in the card. Instead of the band coming into Harry’s eight-track player to play the song, the song is somehow stored inside the box and the string that’s inside that, and Harry tried to tell him once about data processing and how the “tape” which is the string recreates the noises, but it’s not a sentient being that reproduces the noise and--

Harry’s eyebrows are raised again. “Louis, are you quite alright?”

Niall is on the verge of tears. Louis throws a chocolate frog at him and mutters, “You slimy bastard,” before curling up with Harry on the opposite bench. Harry offers him one of the earphone things to put on his ear, and Louis accepts it, letting the tinny noise distract him from all of the questions in his brain. He closes his eyes, and before he knows it, they’re at Kings Cross.

***

Louis doesn’t even see Niall get off the train; he runs far ahead of both Harry and Louis, eager as ever to go see his parents and his brother, Greg. Even at eighteen, Louis simply does not have the energy to follow suit, and even if he did, his family isn’t at the train station to pick him up, not this time. Across the platform, he sees Lottie and Fizzy sprinting in the direction of their parents, and when his mum meets his eye, he smiles and waves, then grabs his trolley and drags it behind him. 

He’d had to beg his mum to let him meet Harry’s family alone; despite the fact that he desperately misses his parents, Daisy, and Phoebe, having to introduce Harry’s Muggle family to six purebloods - four of whom are squealing, giggling young girls - is not exactly on his to-do list.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger on his mum and the girls for too long, so as not to make himself miss them more. Instead, he focuses on the firm grip of Harry’s hand in his, dragging him confidently in some direction Louis couldn’t predetermine if he tried. Louis doesn’t realize they’ve found their destination until Harry stops short in front of two adults and a teenager, causing Louis’s trunk to smack into the backs of his ankles.

“Mum!”

Harry latches onto the middle-aged, dark-haired woman before them and, clutching his ankle, the realization dawns upon Louis that this is Harry’s family, not an arm’s length away. They’re only five seconds into this encounter and he already looks like a fool. 

Louis’s cheeks are red as Harry scrambles backward and waves a hand at his mother, who has a deep tan in December and the same dimples as her son. “Lou, this is my mum!”

“You can call me Anne,” she says with a warm smile of straight, white teeth.

Harry keeps talking. “And this is my stepdad, Robin, and my sister Gemma!” Harry’s enthusiasm is genuine; it’s always genuine.

Robin, a robust and happy looking man, shakes Louis’s hand. Louis’s own smile is stretched thin over his teeth, and he has that distinct feeling that Harry calls being on “autopilot,” where things just kind of happen to you and even though you’re participating you can’t recall deciding to participate or willing your body to move. Harry’s voice sounds far away as he introduces Louis as “my boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson.”

Snapping back to reality with all cylinders firing, so to speak, Louis realizes he probably looks like a psychopath, smiling this long without moving. As Robin and he break contact, Louis’s eyes shift over to Harry’s sister. “Gemma, you look… younger than I’ve heard you described,” he says with a light laugh, head cocking ever so slightly to one side.

She looks so much like Harry it’s startling, everything except the eyes and the delicate nose. Her laugh is brash. “Harry, have you been telling porky pies about your big, bad, older sister?”

Anne rolls her eyes, and Louis relaxes just slightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. “Whatever he said is probably true, if exaggerated.”

Robin laughs as well, nodding. “Yeah, these two have had a time, haven’t they, love? What was it Harry called her that time? A drug dealer?”

Louis’s eyes widen, and he turns to Harry, who’s motioning for them to stop, a blush high on his cheeks. “All right, all right, that’s enough of that.”

And just like that, the ease of conversation dies, and it’s like all at once they realize Louis is a centaur or half-giant or some foreign species. He sees the vague skepticism in Anne’s eye as she looks to Harry and sighs, “Well, we’d best be off, then, hadn’t we?”

And so they’re off.

***

Louis has never been in an automobile, or a car, or whatever - only the train, really. So forgive him if it takes him a while to adjust to Robin’s “driving,” and everyone else’s, and how fast the cars move and how close to one another they are at all times. 

Normally, Harry would be holding Louis’s hand, but Gemma had been shepherded into sitting in the seat between them, and Louis is absolutely distraught but not enough to try and put his arm around Gemma to hold Harry’s hand. Of course he and Harry have always had to maintain a certain level of respectability in public - for both common decency and Louis’ status as a pureblood - but they’ve never… They’ve never been together and been socially expected not even to hold hands. Somehow, this is worse than being totally apart for the holidays like they usually are. 

Ten minutes into the drive, Robin cuts on the radio, which is just like Harry’s eight-track player. Harry explains it to him in terms relative to the eight-track while the rest of the family sits in silence, and Louis blushes, feeling like an outcast.

“They really don’t have radios in Wizarding Britain?” Gemma asks, and Louis can tell it’s a genuine question.

Harry says, “Technology doesn’t interact well with magic in high volumes, so even though Louis and I are magic, since we aren’t performing any complicated magic it’s fine. But there’s so much magic at Hogwarts that it kinda makes everything go on the fritz.”

Anne pipes up from the front seat, “Harry, I didn’t know you couldn’t even listen to music at Hogwarts. How have you been able to cope?”

That draws light laughter, not only from Gemma and Robin, but from Louis as well. Harry talks about music all the time. He listens to it almost the whole way to and from Hogwarts every train ride. He sings in the shower, and he hums to himself while he studies. He teaches the younger students “songs” to help them remember the stuff they learn in class. Music is a part of Harry that Louis doesn’t experience much, but that doesn’t mean Louis has no idea what a large part of Harry it is.

Maybe they’ll do more of the music thing over the next two weeks, together.

***

Harry’s parents’ house is nice, if a little small. It’s nothing like the type of abode most purebloods have, but then again, who honestly wants to live in Malfoy Manor? From what Louis has gathered from looking at the houses they passed on the way back to the Styles-Twist home from Kings Cross, their house is on the higher end of average by Muggle standards.

The house has three bedrooms, from what Louis has picked up in conversation. Gemma is in a Muggle college but still has her own bedroom, which she’ll be staying in for the duration of the holidays. Robin and Anne share a room, and Harry has his own. No guest room. Anne smiles politely as she shows Louis how to unfold the pull-out bed inside the sofa, and Louis wonders why wizards don’t have something so simple. Then he realizes most wizards would just create another bedroom or Transfigure another bed if they had a guest staying over.

For as polite as Robin, Gemma, and Anne are, there’s a niggling feeling in the back of Louis’ mind through all of his interactions with them. It tells him they’re just being nice because they feel they have to do so. And honestly, that’s probably valid, and he can’t fault them for it. He feels awkward, too. If it weren’t for Draco Malfoy and the likes of him cluttering up the Slytherin common room talking about how Muggles are practically animals, he’d probably feel a lot less awkward. He doesn’t agree, but the rhetoric announces itself at odd times, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to such a bigoted bias by stupidly saying something like, “I knew all those blood purists were stupid, you guys seem like really nice, intelligent beings.” He can’t imagine the fallout from an unfiltered thought like that, directed at the family of his boyfriend, of the boy he loves. It could prevent their relationship from moving forward, or end it entirely. He hates that, the Always On Edge, Always On Guard feeling. Hopefully, the more time he spends with them, the less surprised he’ll be, the smarter his inner monologue will become.

After Anne shows Louis the pull-out, Robin offers to help Louis and Harry upstairs with their luggage. “No thanks. We can just, uh, magic them up the stairs,” Louis says awkwardly. 

“Ah,” Robin says, smile a little less genuine than usual. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to Harry. “Well, uh, please try not to break anything.”

“You broke something?” Louis laughs. “Wingardium Leviosa is a first year charm.”

“Well, how often do you Wingardium Leviosa something that weighs ninety kilograms up two flights of stairs?” Harry says, embarrassed. “I was tired!”

Robin chuckles, but it’s awkward. Okay, so magic makes him nervous. Duly noted. “Get on with it, boys, dinner should be ready soon, so don’t dawdle.” And then he walks into the dining room, where Anne and Gemma appear to be setting the table.

Louis shares a look with Harry, whose curly hair has gotten increasingly unruly since leaving the train. Harry plays with his hair when he’s feeling anxious; it’s a self-proclaimed coping mechanism. “Well then,” Harry says, forcing a smile onto his face and brandishing his wand at his trunk. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Wingardium Leviosa,” Louis echoes wandlessly, and his trunk rises in the air just a moment after Harry’s.

“Show-off,” Harry mutters, but he can’t hide the smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

Louis doesn’t even try.


	2. Of Hot Pockets and Holidays

While Louis might have been showing off the night before, he’s hardly showing off the next morning. He’d gone back up to Harry’s room while he was sleeping and changed into a set of dress robes, then headed to the kitchen to - well, to analyze the technology.

He pulls a chair from the dining room into the kitchen, sits on it, and opens a door on the big, white block of a thing, the biggest unknown object in the room. It says “Frigidaire” inside a tiny oval in the top right corner of the top door. There are plastic letters stuck to it, spelling out things like “DENTIST MONDAY” and “HARRY ON 21ST”. There are small pictures, and bigger pictures - the not-moving, Muggle kind - on the big white doors, pictures of a teenaged Harry, a young, gangly-looking preteen Gemma, Anne and Robin on what looks to be their wedding day. Harry and Gemma as tiny tots, photographs of both of them as babies. 

Louis is kind of putting off opening the door to the “Frigidaire”, and so he wastes some time temporarily charming the photographs to move. Preteen Gemma sticks her tongue out at Louis, and he smiles. That seems true to her character.

Finally, he opens the bigger of the two doors and finds that there’s a light on inside the box, casting a white glow on the food stored inside. The box is loud, and cold. Louis closes the door. Then, after counting to five, he opens the smaller door above the bigger one. This box is even louder, and colder, and it appears to be… growing ice. There are boxes inside it with pictures of food on them - Louis wonders what a Hot Pocket is, and if it’s supposed to be hot, why is it in a cold box? It makes no sense. Louis thinks to himself that the Frigidaire is probably some unnecessary contraption Muggles have been suckered into buying so they can do everything the hard way.

Louis doesn’t even hear Harry coming downstairs, too busy assessing a different, smaller box called a Microwave Oven. Harry sneaks up on him just as he’s getting up the courage to open the door and see if this box is cold as well. Louis jumps at Harry’s touch when Harry puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry!” Louis startles and stands abruptly from the chair.

Harry laughs, green eyes twinkling in the grey, early-dawn light spilling through the window. “What are you doing, Lou?”

“Nothing!” he says quickly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re not trying to Transfigure the microwave, are you?”

“No! I was, uh, hungry. Yeah! I was considering how to eat one of the… ‘Hot Pockets.’” Louis even makes the air quotes.

Harry narrows his eyes and turns to look at the looming, white Frigidaire. “Have you been in the freezer?”

“What is a freezer?”

“You know, where you found the Hot Pockets?” Harry says, and Louis narrows his eyes right back at him.

“You mean the Frigid-air-ay?”

Harry bursts into laughter. “Lou, Frigidaire is the company that makes the freezer.”

“But the bottom box isn’t freezing! Why would it be a freezer?”

“The bottom part is the refrigerator; the top part is the freezer.”

Just like that, Louis’ curiosity is shot. They stand there in silence for a moment.

“Hey, Louis, why is 11 year old Gemma flicking me off?”

***

Once Harry’s parents and Gemma get out of bed, Louis and Harry take turns Transfiguring old pairs of Harry’s shoes into something Harry calls “ice skates,” and Harry, Gemma, and Louis all trudge outside to the pond between Harry’s house and the neighbors’. Harry is wrapped up in so many scarves and coats and mittens that he looks like a human-sized snowball. Gemma had the good sense to tell Anne she’s a big girl and she’ll be fine with just one set of each. Louis laughs at Harry as he waddles toward the pond, and he casts a Warming charm on his own hands and toes. Gemma is hesitant, but by the time they reach the pond, she asks Louis if she can have a Warming charm as well. Harry strips off his several coats and scarves beside the frozen pond and casts his own Warming charms silently and wandlessly. 

“Show-off,” Louis mumbles with a sly grin, sitting down on the cold, snowy ground to put on his Transfigured ice skates.

“Show-off,” Harry mimics when Louis stands to his feet and immediately falls face first after gingerly stepping on the icy surface of the pond.

“Show-off.” Gemma shoves Harry forward onto the pond and sends him skidding onto his knees.

“Heeyyyyyy,” Harry whines, brow furrowed, and Louis laughs loudly, wandlessly casting Wingardium Leviosa to rise to his feet without falling again. Once firmly planted on the blades of his skates, Louis extends an arm to Harry and helps him to his feet, a wild, wide smile on his lips.

Louis doesn’t even realize Gemma’s already skated out to the center of the pond until she calls, “You guys are such losers.”

Louis’ smile fades just a little as he watches her glide along the surface of the ice, forming broad and tight circles, changing direction. Harry squeezes Louis’ mitten-clad hand when Gemma does a tiny hop, landing seamlessly back on her blades.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Harry yells, “Show-off!”

Gemma’s smile looks just like Harry’s even from thirty meters off, and Louis shudders at the uncanniness of the whole thing. Louis thinks to himself that Gemma would probably have been sorted into Gryffindor had she ever received a letter to Hogwarts herself. It’s the fire in her eyes, searing into Louis from so far away Louis can barely see her eyes in the first place.

He looks away and down at the grey-black surface of the pond, digging the tip of his right blade into the ice. This is certainly a dangerous game to play, right? Who knows how thin or thick the ice below them is? Louis could take one more fall like he did when they first reached the pond and find himself trapped in the frigid water below. But Harry and Gemma don’t seem scared at all.

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand again. “Will you hold my hand?” he asks innocently, but Louis can tell easily that it’s more for himself than it is for Harry.

“Aw, does baby brother need help getting across the big, scary pond?” Gemma chimes in, skating over closer to the two of them.

Harry reaches one hand out toward the left side of the pond, and before Louis even knows what Harry’s doing, Gemma’s eating a face full of tightly-packed snowball. “Run!” Harry cries, sliding forward and dragging Louis with him, and Louis lets out a tiny scream as Gemma all but sprints to the snow surrounding the pond.

“Oh, it’s over, Harold!” she cackles.

“What have you done?!” Louis shouts ahead of him at Harry, who’s laughing his arse off and dragging him along in some complicated shape Louis’ brain isn’t familiar with. “She’s gonna kill us!”

“You’re a wizard, Louis, get over it.”

Letting go of Harry’s hand, Louis brandishes his wand and uses it to pull Harry’s toboggan down over his eyes.

“Hey!”

And then Louis’ off, skittering like a baby deer on the ice and building up as big a stockpile of snowballs as he possibly can to defend himself from his two, now-allied, enemies.

***

“So what exactly are you guys going to be celebrating while I’m away?”

Gemma makes a funny face at Louis and puts her fork down in her plate of spaghetti, eyes darting at Harry. Harry clears his throat upon the odd looks Anne and Robin shoot Louis’ way and folds his cloth in his lap. “Well, some wizards practice religion, but it’s a lot less common and almost entirely exclusive to Muggleborns and halfbloods,” he explains, shoulders tense.

“I mean, we celebrate Yule about this time of year as a society - is Chris-Mass similar to Yule?” He can hear his own voice a little high and tighter than usual. This is misstep what number now? He couldn’t be doing worse if he was trying.

Well, he supposes if he was trying he could be doing much worse. He’s only a few years off from the Weasley twins, and he can’t imagine what would happen if one of those ginger demonspawn decided to be just as difficult as possible in front of a family of Muggles. That’s not exactly fair, as Fred and George Weasley aren’t all that bad, but they are, well, Gryffindors. Rambunctious, dangerously inventive Gryffindors with something to prove. Not a good mix on most occasions.

“Well, the way we celebrate Christmas has its roots in Yule, but there’s a different meaning behind it.” Harry makes very deliberate eye contact with his family members individually, and after a brief pause, he continutes. “We celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. He’s the last prophet of our God, and in short, he’s the reason we’re able to be with our God in the afterlife.”

Louis nods very carefully, says “okay,” and that’s that. Louis doesn’t know if he believes in an afterlife. He doesn’t really know if Harry does, either.

“Louis, what do wizards celebrate at Yule?” Anne asks. She sips red wine, and if it weren’t for the faint blush in her cheeks, Louis wouldn’t know she was tense at all.

Louis feels like this is an essay question at the end of a strenuous exam. “It’s a celebration of the abundance of crops and food, and for me, that’s always translated over to celebrating other types of abundance. Life, prosperity, and love. Happiness.” He glances over at Harry, whose green eyes are smiling even as he hides his mouth behind his drinking glass. “It’s supposed to last about two months, from mid-November to January, but Hogwarts curriculum is a bit in the way, so it’s hard to properly celebrate family sometimes, and we always try to squeeze it all into the winter break. I have four younger sisters, so there’s always an, ahem, abundance of chaos.”

Robin laughs at that, and he seems to be finally broken from his own stoic silence on the whole “religion and rituals” discussion. “Four sisters? How old are they?”

“Charlotte is twelve, Fizzy is eleven, and the twins - Daisy and Phoebe - are six,” he says primly. Reading everyone else’s faces during another bout of raised eyebrows and quiet, Louis supplies, “Yeah, they’re a handful, the lot of them. Lottie and Fizzy are already at Hogwarts so I do get to see them quite often, although Fizzy was sorted into Ravenclaw and Lottie was sorted into Gryffindor, so I don’t see them… quite as much as you’d think considering we go to the same school and all. And then Daisy and Phoebe, I haven’t seen them since September other than just a glimpse of them at Kings Cross.” 

The more he speaks, the more he realizes just how much he misses home. The girls. He won’t by the time he leaves, but suddenly it doesn’t seem to suck so much that he’ll be leaving Harry to see his family again. Sometimes spending seven years at a boarding school isn’t quite all that it’s cracked up to be.

“Well, tell us a little bit about them,” Anne says, skewering a slice of yellow squash. “What are they into?”

And for the first time since Louis arrived, he feels like the one who knows things, and who gets to explain how things work, even silly things like Exploding Snap. And he feels funny again, and smart, and even good when Harry squeezes his hand under the table.


	3. Along Came a Dark Lord

The Styles family drops Louis off at Kings Cross, and they all meet Johannah of the Noble House of Tomlinson. Louis generally just calls her Mum.

Johannah doesn't look like Louis’ mum by the way she's dressed, let alone like the wife of a pureblood wizard of House Tomlinson. She's wearing a pair of what Harry calls blue jeans and a Muggle blouse, and she has small hoop-shaped earrings in her earlobes. In short, she looks just like Anne, if you don’t look at their faces. They could be the same person. The only difference is that Anne carries a purse and Johannah does not, and Anne also has three kids and a husband with her, while Johannah appears to be alone.

“Er, hello… Mum…” Louis says, eyeing his mother suspiciously, as if maybe someone Polyjuiced a Muggle and sent them to Kings Cross for some reason only Merlin knows.

“Hi, Lewis,” Johannah replies with a warm smile, crows feet creeping up by her eyes. And yeah, that’s definitely Mum.

“Lewis?” Harry says indignantly.

“Oh, um--” The words are out of Louis’ mouth before he can even figure out what exactly he meant to say. Professor McGonagall had called him Lou-ee during the First Year Sorting Ceremony, and he’d been too anxious to correct it. After that, everyone had just called him “Tomlinson” for so long he’d forgotten there was ever a problem, and by the time he realized everyone thought his name was Lou-ee, it almost seemed ridiculous to tell them that, no, in fact, he was Lou-is Tomlinson. His eyes settle back on Harry’s wide, questioning ones, and with a half-hearted blush on his cheeks, he answers, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I get back?”

Harry makes one of those faces, the Harry faces that mean Harry is not impressed, even if it’s only meant as a joke, and Louis smiles reflexively, getting caught in that brief moment before realizing he hasn’t even introduced Harry’s parents to his mum and they’re all just standing there silently because Louis hasn’t been proactive enough.

“Oh, sorry - Mum!” He waves a hand at Anne. “This is Harry’s mum, Anne Twist.”

Anne is always so incredibly gracious, he notes as she reaches out one hand to shake hands with Johannah. Johannah smiles brightly and introduces herself in a natural way, and honestly, sometimes Louis wonders how he got sorted into Slytherin, when his mother - a Hufflepuff - is so much better at these social things than he is. It’s no wonder he’s barely got any friends in Slytherin. As a matter of fact, he’s the only Slytherin he even knows who’s friends with anyone outside the Slytherin circle in his year.

“I’m Johannah, Louis’ mum.”

Louis takes the brief reprieve when Anne introduces Robin and Gemma, and he walks to the other side of the circle gathered in the near-empty Kings Cross hall to slyly hold Harry’s hand while everyone’s attention is elsewhere.

It’s just like being back at Hogwarts when Harry lays his head on Louis’ shoulder and presses his forehead to Louis’ neck, despite being several inches taller than Louis already. And then Harry whispers, “I absolutely refuse to call you Lewis in bed.”

Louis pinches Harry’s side, the blush reappearing across his nose and cheeks, just as Anne says, “I would love to stay and chat, but my mother is coming for dinner tonight and we’ve got a laundry list of things to accomplish for the holidays.”

“Oh, of course,” Johannah nods cordially. “Happy Christmas to you all. It was lovely to meet you. Maybe when I bring Louis back we’ll have more time to properly meet?”

“That sounds lovely,” Robin agrees, and Gemma nods.

“Goodbye, Louis,” Gemma adds, glancing down at the hand he’s entwined with Harry’s. “Happy birthday, and happy Yule.”

Stunned for a moment, Louis isn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to remember.

Harry shoves one hand into his pocket and pulls out a hand-sized box, then thrusts it into Louis’ palm. “Happy birthday, Lou. I’ll be sure to Owl.”

Louis grins back at him. “Thank you all for having me,” he says to the Styles-Twist family, reluctantly crossing to the other side of the circle and joining his mother. “Happy Christmas. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Robin agrees, and that man is impossible to read, but Louis thinks just maybe his smile is more genuine than polite.

And then, with a single wave, Johannah drags Louis through Platform 9 ¾, and then they’re back in Wizarding Britain, just like that.

***

“Lewis!” squeal Phoebe and Daisy from the sitting room, and then there’s the sound of rapid pitter-patter as their little blonde heads dart into the parlor, giggling the whole way.

Louis is nearly tackled full-force by his two youngest sisters, and he gives them ferocious bear hugs and kisses on top of their heads before Daisy looks up at Johannah with a funny look on her face.

“Mum, you’re dressed weird.”

Suddenly, Louis remembers how out of place her Muggle outfit looked on her upon first glance. “Yes, actually,” he says, eyeing his mother and picking Phoebe up to place on his hip. “You’re dressed quite Muggle. If it wasn’t for Harry, I’d think you had gone mad.”

Johannah smiles fondly and rolls her eyes, picking Daisy up as well. “I haven’t worn Muggle clothes in years. I had forgotten they could be quite comfortable in comparison to robes.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “So is this a new thing you’re doing, or?”

“Oh, Merlin, no!” she laughs. “I didn’t want to make Harry’s family feel like they were out of place, as I remember feeling on my first trip to Diagon Alley. As a matter of fact, it’s nearly time for tea. I should change into some proper robes, shouldn’t I?” They walk through the parlor, into the sitting room, and so on into the kitchen, where the house elves are already preparing tea, and Phoebe and Daisy poke and prod at him as if he has changed entirely too much in the past four months. Together, they make fun of his hair and discuss what color would look best on his nails for his birthday. 

“So, this Harry,” Johannah of the Most Noble House of Tomlinson says, depositing Daisy onto a chair across from Sampra the house elf, and Louis follows suit with Phoebe. There’s a plate of biscuits waiting on the table, and from the smell of them, they’re quite fresh. Louis snags one with an impish grin when Sampra turns her back, and then he puts his full attention on his mum. “It’s quite serious, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s serious, Mum, we’ve been together for two years,” he says with an awkward laugh, attempting to sidestep the conversation entirely. He’s not ready yet, not to talk about this. Because it is serious, quite serious, actually. It hits a touch too close to home, as a matter of fact.

Because Louis has been thinking about this a lot. More than his mum could ever know, as he’s been thinking on it quite steadily since October and has not mentioned it once even in his Owls. He’s been so nervous because of it that he’s barely spent any time properly with Harry in the whole time they’ve been at his house. He’s known he was being weird and kind of distant, and it’s because he wants Harry’s family to like him so badly because he’s seen the things happening around Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley the past five years and--

He’s getting ahead of himself again.

A sweat breaks out under his collar, and he drops the facade, following his mum upstairs toward the master suite. “Mum, it’s serious,” he says gravely, and it almost feels like a death sentence, because no matter how happy he is, a death sentence it shall be.

His mum knows that better than anybody else, save the Potters, the Longbottoms, and Voldemort himself. The look she throws his way says it all, but he knows she’s not done saying what needs to be said. 

Pursing her lips, she sighs, “Well, since you hate my Muggle clothes so much, you can help me pick out some good old Wizarding robes for tea, how’s that, then?”

Louis smiles feebly and follows her up the winding staircase, and once they reach the top of the stairs, she turns to him and brings him in for a tight hug. His Muggleborn mother has always been so much more touchy-feely than any of his pureblood family, and it’s times like this that he needs that comfort. Her embrace reminds him fleetingly of the first time he performed wandless magic in Potter’s DA meetings, and the first time he cast a patronus, and the first time he looked at Harry like that--

His mum’s hugs feel like home, and he’s home now, and it won’t always be like this, but for now, home is where he knows he’s safe.

***

Louis, Johannah, and Mark have The Talk once the girls are in bed. It's 23 December, 11:04 PM and fifty-six minutes until his eighteenth birthday, and he's discussing his imminent death. It's quite chipper, if you ask him, very matter of fact, as if this is a conversation about what color drapes to put in the drawing room or which set of robes make his father look most dapper.

“Andromeda Owled two days ago. Her daughter and son-in-law are Order members, if you'll recall? You even had Mr. Lupin for Defense one year.” She pours herself another cup of tea and tops Louis’ off as she goes. When she raises the pot to Mark, he shakes his head, and she replaces it on its tray. “She said Harry Potter is having visions. He sees happenings through You-Know-Who's eyes, as if he is a part of him. And Narcissa Malfoy Owled her privately to verify that the Dark Lord has returned, and to request that Andromeda protect her family. Narcissa seems to believe the Malfoys are in too deep to turn away; the Dark Lord has taken up residence in the Manor.”

A shiver runs down Louis’ spine, and he nods curtly. “Draco, the heir of Malfoy, is in Potter's year, and I myself have noticed a change in his behavior in the last few months alone. He used to be quite, ah…” Louis searches carefully for the appropriate term. “...pompous.” Louis doesn't dislike Malfoy; he has a lot of potential, when he isn't totally focused on besting Potter, Granger, and Ronald Weasley. Anyway-- “He’s been far more subdued lately. Still arrogant as any Malfoy has ever been, but not quite as reactionary.” 

Louis does not add that Draco is brighter than many seventh year Slytherins, Louis himself included, as a mere fifth year. It's hard to defend Draco, who has mercilessly belittled “Mudbloods” not unlike Louis’ own boyfriend. But knowing that Draco Malfoy is likely just as far into the line of fire as Louis and Harry (and Harry) are… it's a chilling thought. He lets the idea weigh on his mind for a moment, and Mark asks, “This will be no walk in the park, but do know that we're telling you this for your own safety.”

“Yeah, Father, I know,” Louis says mildly. “I still haven't asked Harry. I don't even know that he would say yes. I mean, I know he feels the same. But I don't think Muggles properly court anymore, so he may not be expecting--”

“I agree,” says Johannah. Louis’ biological father was a Muggle Johannah had known from childhood, and even back then he hadn't realized Johannah had intentions of courting. When she had fallen pregnant, rather than proposing as she had hoped, he had broken up with her instead. Luckily, Mark had been along only a few years later and adopted him. Louis barely remembers life without his father. “Well, luckily for you, a proposal will be the only proper surprise in the conversation. I gather feeling like one has a choice in the matter makes one happier to choose.” 

Louis sips his tea as Mark pats his mum's hand reassuringly.

“Son, our House is not the most Ancient, but as a Noble House, Harry will be safe with us. However, don't use that to pressure him into his decision.”

“Of course not!” Louis says, aghast. “I mean, of course he should know what is coming, but I don't want him to feel as if he's been…”

“Manipulated,” says the other Slytherin at the table. 

Louis laughs. He can always count on Dad. “How long do we have, do you think?”

Johannah's face grows serious, and for a moment she looks like a mother of a seventh year wizard should. Her eyebrows knit together, then relax even as Mark stiffens in his chair. “Harry Potter turns eighteen on the thirty-first of July next year.”

“Next school year,” Mark amends.

“July isn't in the school year,” Louis says, forcing his lips not to twitch in amusement. 

Johannah's eyes twinkle in the candlelight, and Mark scowls. “1998.”

Louis nods again. “So even if we start planning now, we have a maximum of a year and a half until…?”

“Until the only one capable of stopping Voldemort has been removed from the playing field.” Johannah stands. “At which point, Muggles will be eradicated, according to dear Narcissa, or rather Voldemort himself. Speaking of turning eighteen, it's getting late, dear, and celebrations will begin early tomorrow morning. Go get some sleep.”

“I wouldn't bank on that,” Louis mutters, standing slowly from his chair. His mother's expression cuts straight through him. “Oh, come on, Mum, you really don't expect me to sleep now that I've been thinking of old Snake Face himself, do you?” he chuckles.

His parents bid him adieu in the parlor, and when he returns to his room, he sits at his desk and inks his quill. At 12:12 AM on 24 December 1996, Louis sends the first Owl of his adult life, addressed to one D. Malfoy, last scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, enchanted to oblivion and back to open only for the intended recipient.


	4. A Harry and a Harry Walk into a Bar

At dawn, Harry’s grumpy old owl - appropriately named Grumpelstiltskin, Grumpy for short - pecks on Louis’ window with a letter tied to his foot.

Having been awake until nearly three corresponding with Malfoy, Louis slogs out of bed at Grumpy's fourth and angriest attempt. If Louis hasn't opened the window when he did, Grumpy would have very nearly broken the glass. As it is, he bites Louis’ finger hard and quick, like a paper cut, and Louis rolls his eyes, tosses the old bird a caramel, and unties the letter from his leg.

Louis shoos him away, and slams the window shut, breaking into a sleepy but broad grin at the sight of Harry's familiar handwriting. He regrets not spending much time with Harry one-on-one or being as affectionate as usual when he was at the Styles-Twist home, but Anne and Gemma seem to be warming up to him enough that it may be more appropriate when he returns. 

What Louis expected to be a sappy “happy birthday, I miss you” letter turns out to actually be quite obscene in content, and before Louis even has time to process Harry's, ahem, feelings, he hears the pitter patter of little feet running down the corridor and shoves the letter back into its envelope and deposits it inside his pillowcase. He's at the door before Daisy is and he tosses it open, squatted down to her face level, throws his hands up, and screams. She squeaks in delight as the Louis Monster chases her down the hall, thinking of literally anything other than the content of the many letters he's received in the past six hours. Fizzy stumbles out of her bedroom in her pajamas, rubbing at her eyes and flaring half-heartedly at him in between. 

“You are an insufferable old man,” she groans, but she's smiling as he scoops Daisy up into his arms and tickles her. Just as the door to Lottie’s bedroom also opens, Felicite crosses the hall and gives Louis and Daisy both a big hug.

“Old man?” he gasps, squeezing her tight, even as Daisy wiggles her way into the ground and squirms out from between their legs.

“You're a proper adult now, Lou! An of-age heir to the fortune of the Noble House of Tomlinson.” It's all said with a rather hefty roll of her eyes, and Louis grins. A Ravenclaw, Fizzy never has cared much for the pretense of some wizarding customs. That's one thing they quite agree on, though as the eldest in the family he has to pretend he cares to “set an example.”

“Oh, have I come into my fortune in earnest now? I must not have received the memo that our parents became positively loaded overnight.”

She jabs him with her elbow, and Louis sees Lottie watching fondly from her bedroom door. 

“Lots, did they tell you they'd gotten rich? They didn't tell me.”

“Shut up, old man,” Lottie laughs, and it turns into a giggle at his crestfallen face.

“Not you as well,” he gasps. “I can't go on like this. All this stress is too much for the baby.”

Lottie makes a face and exchanges a look with Fizzy. “What baby?”

“Me! I'm the baby!”

“Lewis Tomlinson, drama queen extraordinaire, it's time for breakfast!” Johannah calls from downstairs.

Louis clears his throat and straightens his clothes, then shares a meaningful look with both his eldest sisters before promptly booking it down the corridor and yelling, “Last one to the table's a rotten treacle tart!”

***

Mark accompanies Louis to Diagon Alley to get Harry a proper Christmas-Yule-Louis’ birthday present. Louis spends a small percentage of his newfound inheritance to get Harry the perfect present - a brand new telescope for astronomy, Harry's favorite subject and pastime. He also buys a load of sweets, as well as a new journal from Flourish and Blotts, as his old one is getting fairly full. They spend an hour at Fortescue's eating ice cream and discussing grown up things like solicitors and possible weddings and potential flats near his parents’ but not too far from Harry's parents’ home. Not that it matters, since Louis can just Apparate them either place now. It's still comforting, the thought of being away from home but not by too much. 

Then Mark looks at Louis and smiles. “Son, I'm proud of you. Genuinely, I am. You've done a phenomenal job at Hogwarts, and you're far braver than any Tomlinson who's come before you. I'm sure you get it from your mother.”

Louis shrugs. “I don't know how true that is. What really have I done that deserves that kind of merit?” he asks, licking his ice cream. 

Mark cocks his head to the side. “Lewis, do you know just how long your mother and I were seeing each other before I told my parents?”

Shaking his head, Louis says, “I don't see why that--”

Leveling Louis with a meaningful look, Mark confesses, “I told my parents I was in love with Johannah the day after the news broke that You-Know-Who had been vanquished by the Potter boy. As far as my parents knew, I was courting Ariana Flint. She was seeing a Muggleborn herself, but she never overcame the weight of her parents’ expectations. Of course, your grandparents love you and your mum, but at first, they were less than pleased. And even though the Tomlinsons are hardly the Flints or the Malfoys, it took knowing I would not face real danger for me to come clean about my feelings for your mother. 

“On the other hand, you've faced the danger you've known was coming for a while. You know what's coming, as we've all known, and instead of being less confident in your decision, you've decided now is the time to act. At your age, I was not the man that you are. Neither was your grandfather. I still may not be, but there is no escaping my choices now that they have been made when I thought there could no longer be a cost.”

“Father, I don't feel brave. I just feel like--”

“Like your love for Harry is worth the looming wrath of a genocidal maniac? Louis, that is bravery.”

“No, Dad, it's just-- it's just love. I love him. That's all.”

“And there is bravery in a love that knows no bounds,” says Mark, in a tone that says Louis cannot and may not argue. Louis thinks there may be some truth to that, actually, if only a little. That's just Harry, though. Harry makes Louis feel brave. He makes him feel strong. And Louis reminds himself that he cannot, right now, even imagine the actual damage Voldemort is capable of, but if he could, Louis thinks that he would still face it head on. Maybe that's exactly what bravery is.

“Of course, you don't want to go telling people about this conversation; after all, Slytherins don't find bravery very Slytherin these days.”

Louis should laugh, but it's too true. Instead, he offers Mark a bite of his Candy Floss ice cream, and just like when Louis was five years old, Mark says no thank you, eyes it for a whole minute, and then sneaks a bite when Louis is unprepared.

Harry would love Mark. Harry will love Mark. As a matter of fact, he'll love him tomorrow, at King’s Cross.

***

Louis is dead tired by the time he and the Styles-Twist family arrive back at the Styles-Twist home. Unsurprisingly, Johannah dressed the whole family like Muggles (except Louis, naturally) and all seven Tomlinsons had taken all four Styles-Twists to lunch, and then shopping, where Harry had helped Louis find his Muggle clothing “style.” Even now, several hours later, he isn't sure how he feels about his blue jeans, or his trainers, or his flannel shirt. The outfit is a lot lazier than what most wizards wear, and Louis likes that, but does he like it? He isn't sure.

What he does know for sure is that his feet are killing him. He casts a charm to alleviate the ache in his bones, and Harry laughs and calls him an old man, as if he hasn't heard enough of that from the girls these last three days. It doesn't hurt as much when he says it though, because their birthdays are only about five weeks apart and Harry's turn is quickly approaching.

“How did you like your gift?” Harry asks, helping Louis levitate his trunk up the stairs for the second time in a week.

“Oh, the watch or the letter I got the other morning?”

Harry swats Louis’ arm, blushing furiously. “The watch. Obviously.”

In the small package Harry had given Louis at King's Cross had been a pocket watch, with a slot for a photograph on the backside of the cover. On its bottom was an engraving, Louis’ full name and the date of Harry and Louis’ first proper date in Hogsmeade two years ago. 

Grinning, Louis says, “It's beautiful. And I know exactly which picture I'm putting in it.”

Harry positively preens as he opens the door to his bedroom. “I noticed I never got a response from your owl. I was concerned it had fallen into the wrong hands.”

Louis’ grin is wicked, and as soon as the door is shut, he says, “And that is exactly why I didn’t send a response. The girls were up by the time I finished reading your letter, and had they known it existed it would have been intercepted, never mind my response. And between you and me, I think we could have both been spared the humiliation of having to face them while we were out with your family for ten hours today.”

The trunk waddles into its designated place in front of Harry’s, as it did when he arrived the first time, and Louis sighs dramatically. “I did miss you terribly.”

Harry smiles broadly and pulls Louis in close for a hug, and it hits Louis like a brick wall that they’ve only even held hands once since the start of break. It’s dizzying, the solid safety of Harry’s embrace, and the smell of his hair, and his warmth, and if Louis cared to waste the time, he’d die before he listed all the things he’s missed.

He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder for a long while and just breathes him in while Harry rubs his back. Harry can’t possibly know how tense his visit with his family was; he loves them, but it was certainly not all fun and games and celebrations. He’s glad to be back here with Harry, where it’s awkward but safe and happy and--

Louis would be lying if he said it hadn’t occurred to him that he and Harry could just run away and lead a life as Muggles, but Louis has never been the type to back down from a fight, and Harry would sooner kill Louis than let him make his choices for him. Louis knows what Harry would say if he even suggested it. He’d say Louis was being rash when the fight hasn’t even been brought to them and they have time to prepare. Also, Harry is a big believer in Harry Potter, is even the one who convinced Louis to start attending DA meetings led by a fifth year in the first place. Harry would be thoroughly disappointed in Louis’ lack of faith. He would never even entertain the thought.

They break away before too long, hearing the rustling of pots and pans downstairs. “Mum will send Gemma up to check on us any second,” Harry whispers, but his eyes stay locked on Louis’ for a long second, and if Louis steals a light, barely-there kiss before stepping back entirely - well, that would be his own business, wouldn’t it?

***

In the spirit of having gotten so far with Harry’s family, when Anne makes a special dinner to celebrate Louis’ birthday, he obviously fucks it up by daring to add more to the conversation than small talk.

“Mum heard through the Blacks that Voldemort is back.”

Harry drops his fork and coughs loudly on his steak, face turning red and eyes bulging. Anne laughs as Robin pats Harry on the back until he relaxes. “Voldemort,” she remarks. “That’s a silly sort of name. Where has he returned from? Holiday?”

“Not quite,” Louis says slowly, placing his own silverware gently on his plate. “Harry, did you not tell your parents about Voldemort?”

“Would you stop saying that name?” Harry hisses. “How do you know that?”

Louis gives him a look. “I mean, we’ve all known, Harry, it’s only recently been confirmed. Do you mean to tell me you genuinely haven’t told your parents about--”

“Lou! We’re at dinner.”

“Who is he?” Robin asks seriously, as Louis wishes Harry would be treating the situation. Gemma is watching keenly, observing from Louis’ right.

Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s and looks Robin in the eye. “Has Harry explained to you that there are pureblood wizards, halfblood wizards, and Muggleborn wizards?”

Anne pipes up primly. “Yes. We’re Muggles, so Harry would be a Muggleborn and you would be a pureblood, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. My mum was Muggleborn, though, like Harry. And when my mum was in school--”

“Louis, please--”

“--there was a War happening. In which a man rose to power and claimed Muggleborns and halfbloods were inferior, and that only pureblood wizards and witches should be regarded as such. He believed Muggles posed a danger to purebloods, and went so far as to say they should be, ah… exterminated. And he went by the name of Voldemort.”

There was dead silence as Louis’ gaze flitted down to his plate.

“He was banished for years, or so we thought, but there have been rumors over the past five years that he survived. And we’ve recently gotten confirmation that he is a corporeal form, back from the dead or whatever he was, and that in a year and a half, he will be fully capable of killing the only wizard powerful enough to stop him.”

Robin cocks his head. “Well, if they know he’s alive, surely they know where he is.”

Louis swallows dryly. “I’ve heard rumors of where he is now, and those rumors say he’s residing with a very powerful politician and his family. That politician happens to control the media--”

“Lou,” Harry whispers softly.

Unclenching his jaw, Louis reaches out to lay his hand on Harry’s. “I thought for sure you would have already told them, what with DA practice and everything, but. Mum and I were discussing this while I was at home, and she’s asked me to extend to you an offer of solidarity. So long as Voldemort lives, you’ll be under the protection of House Tomlinson, if you choose to accept. You don’t have to, and you can continue to live your lives as normal, but--”

“Louis, what are you talking about?” Harry cries. “What protection can anyone offer us? This is exactly why I didn’t tell them, I didn’t want them to be worried if there’s nothing I can do to protect them.”

Harry’s green eyes have welled up with tears, and Louis squeezes his hand. “Well, I have news about that as well. The Blacks have a safe house you all can utilize. It’s laid dormant for nearly twenty years, but should the time come, they have offered the house to us to offer to you. It’s set right in the heart of Muggle London, which isn’t ideal what with the distance to your jobs, but if you needed or wanted it, it can be arranged.”

“How have you contacted the Blacks?”

“So there’s a murderous madman on the loose, and your government refuses to do anything about it, so we and our son may die as a result?” Robin’s words are clipped, and Anne puts a gentle hand on his arm.

“Robin, Louis is trying to help. He’s only eighteen years old, what can he do about his government?”

There’s a long silence before Gemma finally says, “If you have arrangements for safe houses, there must be an underground political movement already forming, right?”

“It’s called the Order of the Phoenix,” Louis says calmly.

“I’ve got to write Harry,” Harry says, standing abruptly from his seat and hurrying up the steps.

Louis sits stock still in his seat. “I have a deal stricken with a member of the family housing Voldemort. It’s not fully flushed out, but essentially, the Order and I are offering him full immunity to turncoat and serve us Voldemort’s head on a silver platter. But that’s not the only plan we have in motion. Harry Potter is a member of the Order himself, and a good friend of Harry’s. A good friend of mine. I think we have a viable shot here at nipping this in the bud before any real horrors come to fruition, but I don’t want you to be in the dark. Contrary to my governments’ beliefs, your lives are equally at risk and you deserve to know what’s happening as much as any wizard does. My being with Harry - the nature of our relationship, me a pureblood, him a Muggleborn - paints a target on all of our backs, including my family’s. We’re a powerful family, though, with connections on both sides, and you should have every opportunity to share those connections.”

“Why? Why would you - would you offer all of this to us?” Anne asks.

It’s silent for a moment, and he swallows the lump in his throat. “I am incredibly in love with your son, and--” He clears his throat again and looks at Robin, who has at least relaxed a bit at this point. “And I would like to spend the rest of my life with him; I don’t mean that to sound morbid about the political landscape, I mean it with the purest of intention. I love Harry, and I really like you guys and I think I would quickly grow to love you as well. I can’t in good faith protect Harry without protecting you all. You’re family, too, or I hope you will be.”

Louis draws a small box from his jeans pocket, wiggling more than he’s used to to get it out of the pocket. “This is a family heirloom, and it’s my Christmas present to Harry. I’m going to give it to him, I’ve already made up my mind, but I would like to ask for your blessing first. I know you don’t know me well, but Harry and I have been together for a long time, and I’d like to ask - if I asked Harry to marry me, would you bless our marriage?”

Anne gasps, and Gemma makes this face Louis can’t quite read, and Robin… stares at the box. When he opens it, it’s a silver band with a small emerald embedded into it, barely noticeable but certainly there. Passed through generations upon generations of Tomlinsons, from the very first one ever sorted into Slytherin. 

“Louis, this is a rather big question…” Anne says softly. “I like you. I really do. And if you asked and he agreed, I wouldn’t stop you. I just think you’re both very young - I mean, Harry is only seventeen--”

“I know! And we have time. I talked to my mum, and she says we have until July of 1998. And even then, we don’t have to be married, but it would make things a lot easier, legally, for us to remain together in the event of an emergency, and for our protection over your family to properly extend to its full length. I would never ask Harry to marry me and tell him that to sway his opinion, but it is the truth, and if I can’t be fully transparent with him about it in good faith, I want you guys to tell me if you have any objection yourself.”

The silence hits again, but not for long, before Gemma clears her throat. “Louis, you have my blessing. I’ve seen you with him, and I know you care. He always writes about you. And you’re weird and you don’t know what a toaster is, but you’re a good kid. You have my blessing.”

Louis’ eyes fill with tears, and his smile makes his throat feel tight.

“You are very young,” Anne cautions, “but I agree with Gemma, actually. And just to be clear, I don’t know how you wizards work, if we bless the marriage, you still have to ask Harry, right? Like we aren’t just marrying off our son--”

“No, no, and even then we’d ideally go through a few stages of courting before marriage,” Louis rushes out, ears turning pink. “I’m not even ready to propose, I think I’d die if I did it now.”

Robin, also pink in the face, nods slowly as if calculating everything Louis has said. “You’re a strange boy, Louis Tomlinson. But there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with you. I wouldn’t trust you to load my dishwasher, but I know you treat Harry well. He glows when you’re around, even when you’re barely speaking.”

Louis really is crying now and he wipes the back of his hand at his eyes, trying to compose himself. It’s not that big a deal, be cool, be cool, be cool.

“And your parents appear to be really stand-up people. I think we can trust you. But if you break that trust, know that there will be consequences, Louis. You may be a wizard, but you’ve seen no wrath like a parent scorned.”

Louis’ laugh is wet, and his shoulders shake. “I know, I’ve seen it from my own mum. So I have your blessing? All of you?”

Gemma leans over in her seat and gives Louis a one-armed hug. “All of us.”

“But let’s not get carried away!” Anne adds. “Like. It doesn’t have to be right now, like you said, so maybe at least wait until the end of school?”

Smiling softly, Louis nods. “I think that’s a fair deal.”

Just then, he hears Harry’s feet on the stairs and grabs the box, closes it, and stuffs it back in his jeans. He wipes at his eyes again, then looks at Harry. 

“Have you gotten a response already?”

Harry lets out a sharp breath and says, “You know, as a matter of fact, I have. And a rather peculiar one. He says he’ll have to get back to me after he’s ‘done coordinating with Draco.’ Draco. Not Malfoy, Draco,” Harry says, shaking his head and pulling out his chair. “I’m sorry if I overreacted. I had just hoped I would never have to--”

Anne hugs Harry close, with both arms, silencing him effectively. “You’ll always be my baby boy, Harry. You know that?”

Gemma and Robin grin, and Louis kicks Harry’s leg under the table.

“I know, Mum,” Harry says skeptically. “Are you alright? Louis didn’t freak you out more while I was gone, did he?”

“Only a bit,” Robin shrugs, “but I suppose it was quite a necessary horror to put us through indeed.” His smile is knowing, and meant only for Louis. “I think Mum is just feeling a bit sentimental. You really have grown up so fast.” And as he musses Harry’s hair, he asks, “So what is this ‘DA’ you keep mentioning?”

Harry locks eyes with Louis, mouth hanging slightly open, and then he grins sheepishly. “Well, uh, a fifteen year old teaches us how to duel in a room that doesn’t actually exist.”

“What?”

Louis smiles to himself then and stares down at his plate. This is Harry’s own necessary horror, and he’s more than happy to dig back into his steak and let Harry deal with it on his own, properly return the favor.

“Lou, a little help here?” Harry pleads, big green eyes begging for some sweet relief.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Harry, I think I’ve got rather a lot of owls I should be sending myself. You don’t mind if I excuse myself, do you?”

“Louis, no!” Harry cries, just as Robin asks, “None of those spells are lethal, though, right?”

“Louis Tomlinson, you started this mess!”

With a knowing smile, Louis rises from his seat, picks up his plate and utensils, and trudges up the stairs to Harry’s room. “How are you going to get yourself out of this one, o wise one?”

“LEWIS!” A wandless Muffliato does the trick, and Louis thinks to himself, he really doesn’t know how he ever lived without Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this, and I'm very sorry it isn't longer. I may consider adding onto it at a later date, but for now I'm satisfied, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Thank you, lovelarry10, for the prompt: "Harry and Louis are both in their seventh year and have been a couple for a while. they obviously share a bed more often than not behind everyones backs. Harry is the first wizard in his family but wants to take Louis home for one of the holidays. Harry's family dont really know how to deal with two wizards, but Louis obviously wins them over, and Harry's family accept him as their sons boyfriend. Lots of magic things happening at the Styles home, and Harrys parents and sister being a little scared until Louis coaxes them into accepting it." 
> 
> As you can see, I took quite a few liberties, but as I stated before, it kind of got away from me and took on its own personality!


End file.
